


The Gift

by willawips



Series: Throneless Campaign [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25518529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willawips/pseuds/willawips
Summary: “I haven’t a scar from falling,” she said proudly.“You almost fell earlier, by the rocks. You did not,” he pointed out.“That was the wind,” she argued.He met her eyes. “Yes.”
Series: Throneless Campaign [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872388
Kudos: 1





	The Gift

The calls faded as her pursuers trickled down the path towards the steam, underbrush creaking like stone giants. Tuuli pressed her hands over her lips, smothering her giggles. They thought she was going to play in the water; she knew that they thought that, and how clever she was to trick them! It would work a couple of times, but then she would have to find a new hiding spot. The eleven year old stood, hopping over roots and branches. They weren’t supposed to go too far in the forest, but everyone knew that that didn’t apply to Tuuli. The elders never scolded her, and her mother only did it for show. “Let there be no dirt upon my apron for the gods to see,” she often quoted. 

A bird cawed over her shoulder, flinging itself into the sun. Tuuli peered up at its black wings. A song of blackbirds was on the tip of her tongue. It felt almost like breckenberries in the sun, and she pressed a laugh down her throat. It wouldn’t do to be found giggling now. That’s what the others always got wrong, and that’s why they were never allowed where Tuuli could go. One must be quiet in the forest. 

They were trained, of course, in the ways of the forest and the mountains. The villagers navigated both worlds, and maintained the secrets of the paths through both. The Jestapi Tribe couldn’t trade with the lowland people, and the lowland people couldn’t trade with the Jestapis without villages like Tuuli’s. Nebo often sang about how they were a bridge to a higher ground, and how bridges were spaces meant for other beings, like the gods. He tried to make a song for Tuuli once, but Mama hushed him up. She told her youngest brother to let her daughter alone, that she wasn’t a bridge or even a woman yet, so let the child be. Nebo was as lighthearted as his voice could be, so he didn’t take offense. Not that he could; Mama could be a fearsome beast when confronted with her brothers. Papa joked that it was her bear-like attitude that made him realize how good a wife she’d be. But Mama was never cross with her children. Protective, yes, but not in the ninny way like those golden-lashed fiends of Fuidin. Mama just knew about the world and made sure they were prepared for it. 

Tuuli climbed upon a rock, gray beneath her ankles. The air was crisp, a sure indication of the overarching mountains. She twirled on it, appreciating the way her apron flared out. When she was older she was going to have loads of dresses that flared out like the sunset, just wait and see. Papa had bought the apron for her, despite Mama’s quizzical look about it. Tuuli had heard them talking about it that night. 

“She’s not a woman yet, Albrecht,” came Mama’s low whisper. 

“But she will be in four years,” Papa pointed out, pipe smoke trickling into the starry air. 

There was silence after that, and Tuuli knew that her mother was sitting up straight, taking her time to impart wisdom. 

“Four years,” said Mama gravely, after a long moment, dark eyes glinting in the firelight, “is a very long time.”

That was probably true, but it didn’t matter. Tuuli had the full-skirted apron, and she was going to enjoy it to the fullest. Not that any of the boys noticed. And why would they? All the children were still looking for her by the stream. She pranced down the rock, once again amused by her trickery. Oh, they were going to be so _mad_ when they found out that she wasn’t there, and what’s more, that they couldn’t go as deep into the forest to find her. She had won that game quite nicely. Maybe they wouldn’t think so, but they were always harping about fairness. Served them right to be tricked; they should get used to the idea of someone else winning. Not that Tuuli lost often, mind. Tuuli’s tricks were well known to the village, and Mama said she despaired of her “bad girl” while grinning. 

“Dirt on my apron,” she always sighed fondly, “Let the gods take pity on me.” 

Tuuli scrunched up her nose, looking up at the cloudless sky. She continued walking. The gods wouldn’t care about dirty aprons or disobedient children anyhow, they had better things to worry about. 

The sky suddenly went dark, and Tuuli almost stumbled on a craggy ridge of rock formation. She scrambled for purchase in the air, finding her balance instantly. 

How strange. A storm so soon in the season wasn’t uncommon, but to have happened so quickly...

She shrugged, turning around back into the forest and making her way back home. The trees would protect her best they could, but she would still get wet. She really preferred staying in during a storm anyhow, listening to Nebo’s songs or elder Viilsa’s histories. Despite, she thought, ducking under a branch, the fact that she had no teeth. Viilsa had a relative closer to the lowlands, a strange woman of herbs and uncommon knowledge and words. Once Tuuli had asked how old she was, and Viilsa had said that woman of that type lived longer in moments than they did in centuries. Tuuli didn’t know what to make of that, but she would like to visit her one day. 

The wind picked up, smashing branches together. Tuuli skipped in exhilaration. Oh, it would be a big storm, an exciting one that rumbled the earth. The entire forest rustled, whispering things to each other in smooth tones. She had never been near the ocean, but she imagined it sounded something like this. The earth howled and she threw her head back, closing her eyes. Beneath her eyelids the world swam, sounds and lights and scents melding together to create an altogether different space than before. She felt as if she had slipped from reality and into a dream, wherein she could float in the air. 

A crack to her left caused her to twist upright, eyes shooting open. A man stood there. 

“Hello,” Tuuli greeted. The wind brushed against her cheek, whipping her black hair out of her braids. “Are you lost? Do you need help?”

He shook his head, stepping closer to her. The thought that he might be a bandit or mountain pillager crossed her mind, but she banished it soon after. He wasn’t wild looking like them. He was still wild looking, of course, with tangled brown locks and pale gray eyes, but not in the way of thieves and murderers. 

“Hello,” he greeted back. He raised his hand in welcome, and the roar of the wind died away. Tuuli frowned. She had liked the wind. But she supposed she could hear him better now, and direct him on his way. “I’m afraid that you are lost, piklo.” 

His nose was long, and his mouth was hawkishly wide. “No I’m not,” she negated. It didn’t feel strange that he was calling her _little one_. “I know my way back. It’s going to rain.”

“It’s not,” he said. But he didn’t add onto it. 

“Would you like to come back with me?” she asked, extending Traveler’s Grace. He tipped his head and hair fell into his eyes, but he followed her when she set off. 

“You come into the forest everyday,” he mentioned. 

Tuuli wanted to balance on one leg and jump over the lace-like roots, but she was aware of her guest so she didn’t. “That’s right.”

“You are eleven, not too far off from learning the rituals of worship.”

“Viilsa wants to teach me early, for practice, but Mama wishes me to stay with the other children. She says it’s easier to do things together, and if I learn by myself I might get a cloud on my nose.”

He laughed, a deep sound that skipped from happy to a growl and back. It was a strange sound, but it seemed familiar. Tuuli wiggled her shoulders anyways. “Your mother is right, but this time Viilsa is the more wise. I desire you to learn the rituals. Would you do that?”

“Why?” 

Tuuli had turned around. His pale eyes were slitted, pupils just peeking out underneath his eyelashes. She knew she had arched eyes as well, but his were different. It occurred to Tuuli that this man didn’t need Traveler’s Grace. 

Instantly fear engulfed her, and she stared at this creature that was more likely a trick than reality. Within the next moment she squared her shoulders and lowered her chin. No ghost would scare her off, and especially not in this forest. She knew just what to do. They wanted respect, a small memorial in death that their silent years had lost them. 

He looked at her, brow suddenly quirked in amusement as if he knew her thoughts. 

“‘It is always good to know things,’” he quoted her own words back at her. 

She felt her eyebrows fly up. “You know of me, monseru?” 

He looked even more amused at her title of respect, meant for great men (and merchants, when you wanted something for a little more cheap). “I have watched you.”

She spun on her heel, arms out. “And what do you do when you watch me, monseru?” 

“I make sure you are safe,” he answered, falling in step behind her. The treetops were crashing together, but Tuuli couldn’t hear them. All she heard was the man’s footsteps behind her. “I listen to your words and I grant your requests.” 

“Do you think of me often, monseru?”

“ _Everyday._ ” 

She stopped, turning to look over her shoulder at that grave tone. He stood, and Tuuli felt that she was seeing a shadow figure on a veil. If only she could reach out and lift the veil... 

“No, you don’t,” she said with a grin. 

He took a step forward. “Oh?” 

“I’ve wanted a necklace for the longest time,” she explained, “like that ninny from Fuidin, all sparkly and jingly. And I still don’t have one, so you must not listen to me as much as you say you do.” 

His wide, dark lips curved up. “I see. And what if I told you other things, like I have protected you from every mishap in your small life?” 

“I haven’t a scar from falling,” she said proudly. 

“You almost fell earlier, by the rocks. You did not,” he pointed out.

“That was the wind,” she argued.

He met her eyes. “Yes.” 

Lightning flashed. 

Tuuli knew she should be afraid. But something in her heart was settled in the chaos and adrenaline, finally contented like a sleepy forest cat after a meal. 

She peered at him, considerate. So he was probably not a ghost. He had looked different with the lightning. Maybe this time she wouldn’t blink, and she would see what he was hiding. 

“Alright, domni,” she said impishly. She danced away, aware of his steady steps behind her. They sounded hollow. 

“Domni?” he laughed. 

She shrugged. “You’ve looked after me,” she said airily. “You are like an uncle, or a silly papa.” 

“Very well,” he agreed, instantly by her elbow. “I shall be your domni.” 

She startled. But his hands were suddenly on her, holding her up. The touch was cold, unbearably cold, like the icy breath of the mountains in autumn. She stared up at him. 

“Very well,” Tuuli said softly. He lowered his hands. His face was starting to look different the longer she looked at it, features glimmering and shaking like a flame on a candle. “Why are you here, domni?” 

He almost frowned at her. But the moment passed, and he was striding forward. She had no choice but to follow, even though his every step seemed a mile. He was always ahead, and she couldn’t get closer, no matter how many steps she took. She could no longer feel the ground beneath her feet. But then he stopped. He turned to look at her, and the wind swirled around them. She huffed, taking a step forward. 

“I have something for you,” he said, voice no longer lilting or even sounding human. He withdrew something from his pocket. Tuuli looked at it.

Lightning flashed, and a necklace glinted from his hand. 

“Oh!” She twirled around in excitement. “You did listen! For me, for me?” 

He lowered his chin in acknowledgment. The necklace was in her hands quick as a flash, and she surveyed it with satisfaction. It was sparkly, just as sparkly as the one she wanted. And it jingled more too, for there were two little stone-like things clamped in the middle. She shook the necklace, listening to the sound and grinning. 

He watched her, manner loose and easy in her enjoyment of his gift. All fear had fled from the girl, and she was entirely absorbed by the pretty piece of jewelry. 

“You like it?”

“Oh yes! Oh YES!”

“You must keep it,” he instructed.

“I will!” she promised. She lifted it, listening to the way it jingled like bells on a goat. The world lit up again in that pale flash, and a large figure of eclectic form existed in the corner of her eye, but Tuuli merely jingled the necklace again. 

He was behind her, now, so she looked up at him. He shared her irrepressible grin. When she went to jingle her necklace again, he instructed, “Look at me for a moment.” 

Tuuli did, but not before putting the necklace in her apron pocket. It settled there heavily, a delightful weight against her thigh. 

The forest was silent, she thought in a moment of clarity. Why was it silent?

But those two cold hands suddenly were upon her, fingers of ice on her shoulders. 

“Will you trust me, Tuuli?” He looked at her intently. “Will you put your life into my hands?” 

“If I ever get lost, sure,” she agreed easily, still ecstatic over the necklace. She wanted to wiggle out of his hold and play with it again, but his grip suddenly tightened. 

“Promise.” 

“Alright,” she said in irritation. “I promise to trust you.” 

_“It is done, then._ ” 

And his grip melted away, almost as if he had never held her to begin with. 

Tuuli blinked stupidly. The desire to play with her necklace suddenly seemed like a silly thing in comparison to this conversation. “What did you need that for?” she questioned, skipping beside him. 

“Words are important,” he hummed, “even the gods need promises before they can take action.” 

The thought almost made her laugh. “The gods aren’t near us,” Tuuli mocked. But the man’s expression made her draw back. 

“Yes, they are,” he insisted, eyes almost white in fierceness. “You must never doubt that they are.” Then he relaxed, joking, “And if you do I shall take a switch and snap it against your bottom.” 

“Nuh uh,” Tuuli countered, fear forgotten. “You can’t.”

“I can,” he told her, smile wide, “I’m your domni. You must listen to me.” 

“Only if I’m lost,” she shot back stubbornly. “And I know where I’m going.” She walked forward, suddenly wishing she could feel the dirt beneath her feet. 

“ _Tuuli._ ”

She stopped.

“Go home. And do not forget what I’ve told you to do.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tease him, to ask what it was he had demanded and pretend she had forgotten. But the look of him, suddenly so large in the forest, made her halt. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I will do it.” 

He smiled at her, as if trying to place a human expression of comfort over far too many teeth. “Listen for me.” 

She opened her mouth to reply, but a crack of thunder broke her voice. Lightning flashed and she, for a reason unknown to herself, clamped her eyes shut. She did not want to see him. She knew she could not see all of him.

(Yet.)

The howl of the wind rose, crowding the air and suffocating her breaths. Tuuli covered her face, listening to the beat of her heart hammering in her ears.

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

A bird’s song pealed through the forest, light and pure. Tuuli opened her eyes. 

The village bustled beyond the bushes she was sitting beside, children’s voices complaining to anyone who would hear over unfairness of some sort. Tuuli shifted, planting her feet beneath her. She felt the dirt. 

The girl paused, looking over her shoulder into the forest. It looked just as calm and dark and inviting as it normally did. 

She almost believed it to be a strange dream, except...

Except it wasn’t. 

Tuuli nodded to herself, pushing herself upright. Her limbs did not feel shaky, and her step was true. A bird cawed over her shoulder, flinging itself into the sun. She peered up at the blue sky, watching its black wings expand and float in the air. She sniffed and turned to walk into the village, hands sliding into her pocket and hearing the delightful clack of a necklace. 

Terror suddenly crowded her throat. Mama had been right. Mama had been right. She was not yet a woman. Why had she given her word? 

But she had given it, and she could not go back. 

Feeling the necklace stones between her fingers, Tuuli rolled back her shoulders and strode into the village clearing. She had to speak with Viilsa. 

**Author's Note:**

> **Glossary**  
> piklo: a term of endearment; “little one” or “dearest” 
> 
> monseru: a title for a great man of vast lands, means, leadership, or money  
> domnv: an old Polan word for father/older man of the family. It doesn’t mean father in the way we use it as much as it means “man who takes care.” not a common word used anymore
> 
> domni: an informal version of domnv, sort of like “pops” or “daddy/daddy-o.” uncommonly used, and when used it is almost always in jest  
> to get a cloud on one’s nose: to become haughty or arrogant; you stick your nose up in the air so often that a cloud gets stuck on it


End file.
